champagne, cocaine, gasoline; and most things in between
"Yes, I believe so," Mateo grins, his cheeks squashed between two bars of the cell as he peers at his father. And honestly, it could be anything from exactly as the botanist had described it all the way to being arrested and/or assaulted as a result of being drunk and disorderly. In his current state, Mateo is neither willing nor able to think about it in too much detail, and he lets out a soft cheer as Remi draws close enough to be able to free him.
Moaning dramatically at the shriek of metal against his pounding head, Mateo emerges, squinting, into freedom, and folds himself instantly into his father's embrace. "Mm, you are warm," he says, voice muffled and face pressed into the fabric of Remi's house coat. "I am alright. I do not think I like it here, though. It is very..." Gesturing vaguely with one hand in the hope that Remi will just know what he means, the botanist does nothing to straighten himself up.
Moaning dramatically at the shriek of metal against his pounding head, Mateo emerges, squinting, into freedom, and folds himself instantly into his father's embrace. "Mm, you are warm," he says, voice muffled and face pressed into the fabric of Remi's house coat. "I am alright. I do not think I like it here, though. It is very..." Gesturing vaguely with one hand in the hope that Remi will just know what he means, the botanist does nothing to straighten himself up.
